Of Claws and Talons
by quillstrike
Summary: Sequel to OQaS. As a HIGHLY RESPECTABLE (okay, so maybe she's laughed at more than she's taken seriously but that's besides the point) lawyer, Adela Lancaster can confidently inform you that, yes, she is now even more awesome than before (if at all possible). Of course, that doesn't mean that Ragnuk (or one git-erm, Al Potter) will treat her any differently...
1. Of Rolling Chairs and Bacon Platters

**Rolling Chairs and Bacon Platters**

** Author Note: Welcome to the very first chapter of **_**Of Claws and Talons**_**! /throws confetti. To new readers - I highly suggest going back and reading OQaS (**_**Of Quills and Serpents**_**) before reading this to avoid confusion and/or fear at Adela's (odd) antics. c; To returning readers - thanks for stopping by! Enjoy! **

**Oh - by the way, I know nothing about lawyers. Or law. I don't even watch any of those law shows, so I have no idea **_**why**_** I chose to make her join a law firm...but Adela somehow fit, so I went along with it xD So please forgive any mistakes (and if you see any, please feel free to point them out so I can fix it!) - all my knowledge comes from Google. I've also taken a few (cough a lot) liberties with the court system/number of years of law school required/etc.**

**This story disregards any additional information released through Pottermore.**

**-Eliene**

**Disclaimer - only OCs + plot belong to me. The rest of this gorgeously imagined world belongs to Rowling. **

"How's the pro bono going?"

I looked up from the piles of haphazardly strewn papers threatening to choke both my oak desk and let out a highly intelligent, "Blargh," in response. I burrowed my head between my arms, overturning a rather large stack of papers - the witness depositions - in the process. Numberita ached. I ached. This whole bloody case ached.

DEAR MERLIN WHY DID I EVER THINK JOINING THE GW FIRM WAS A GOOD IDEA?

Oh yeah. Goblins. Werewolves. The whole "I want to make the world a better place" thing.

...

Well, I was an ambitious sixteen-year-old.

And now here I was - a wise and mature twenty-one-year-old (almost twenty-two! Just three weeks and two more days!). I'd pretty much learned life's secrets in the past five years, seven months, and sixteen days.

...Not really.

The person who'd asked the question - Dominique Weasley - laughed softly before moving forward. I didn't move, stubbornly staring down into the dark desk in a fit of self-pity. Ms. Granger - she'd told us to just refer to her as either Ms. Granger or Ms. Weasley, saying that it was much shorter and easier to say in a hurry - had assigned me to research the details of the case and come up with a good argument. Our client was a house elf who, much like the famous Dobby, wished to become free. In order to do so, the house elf - Daisy - wanted to sue her master - a rather nasty wizard by the name of Gregory Vince - for emotional damage and a breach of contract.

A sharp rap to the head broke Numberita from her thoughts - I looked up, moaning when I saw that Dominique had opened all the shades, flooding my small office (well, it was more like a cubicle - it was only three meters long and four meters deep) with late afternoon light.

I hissed, shielding my eyes - I hadn't been directly exposed to sunlight in, well, sixteen hours and forty-two minutes.

"Oh, come on," Dominique said crossly. Hmph. Well, _someone _was in a mood. Lifting my head, I stuck my tongue out at the tall blonde. She rolled her eyes, muttering something in French, and sat herself down on the corner of my desk.

"So, Ms. Hotshot Associate - how's the pro bono?" she repeated, her slim eyebrows rising pointedly. I groaned again, my shoulders slumping. I'd been promoted to Associate thirty-six days and three hours ago after two years of apprenticeship (i.e. getting coffee/running trivial errands which had NOTHING TO DO WITH LAW for the lazy butts-erm, _associates_ employed at the GW firm). Dominique, having graduated from university a year later than I, was in her second and last year of practical training. Although we'd never spoken in Hogwarts (Numberita couldn't recall a single conversation), we'd gone to the same university - Camelot University - and I'd found myself getting closer to her.

"Honestly? I have no idea how to come up with an argument for this. Defense already has the benefit of tradition of its side; house elves, as sad as it is, are_ supposed _to be treated like slaves - heck, they _are_ slaves. It's going to be difficult to convince the jury that this case is wrong without challenging the whole practice as a whole - which, of course, will surely lose the case for us, considering the fact that maybe only three people in the whole Wizarding World are against the practice."

Dominique shrugged, flipping her long, shining (oh, how I envied her. My hair was currently in the "matted tumbleweed" stage - oh sod off. _Yes_, I know that it's always in that stage!) strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder before saying, "Why not?"

I blinked; what? Did she not just hear my whole rant on the subject? The whole - jury will surely vote against us if we try and attack it as a whole?

"I mean, no one thinks of it as slavery - only you and Aunt Hermione do. I doubt they even _think_ about how the house elves feel. So why don't you put it into that perspective? Paint it for what it is - cruel slavery in a time in which people pride themselves on being 'modern' and 'free.'"

I blinked again - that could work. I stood up abruptly, sending my rolling chair (oh, how I loved that chair) careening into the white wall behind me, and swiftly enveloped Dominique in a hug/stranglehold combo (I swear it was a hug. She'd beg to differ).

"Merlin, Dominique! You're brilliant!" I said excitedly, Numberita already whirling to word the argument in the most efficient way. She shrugged again, preening a bit as she smoothed her pale blue blouse.

"For a Gryffindor," I hastily added. What? I had to keep up my pride as a Ravenclaw! She scowled, her pretty pink lips twisting into a deep frown as she glowered at me.

"Sod off, Lancaster," she said warningly. I shrugged, retrieving my chair (Seth had given it to me as a Congratulations-for-becoming-Associate-and-somehow -managing-to-not-get-fired present. Yes, he worded it that way. Yes, I whacked him with my new bat - Scorpius, to my delight and Seth's consternation, had given me a new bat just a few minutes before Seth's present. Although I didn't play Quidditch anymore, I still liked to carry a Beater's bat around with me).

I yanked open the main drawer of my desk and retrieved a spare roll of parchment I found buried under a stack of raven quills (oh! I'd been looking for those for three weeks and twelve days!). Using the ink well to hold the parchment flat, I began frantically scribbling down ideas with my golden quill, the words blurring together as my pace increased.

"Why don't you ever use this quill?"

I paused in my crazed scribblings to look up and see what Dominique was referring to. She dangled an all-too-familiar pearly white quill shot through with flecks of pale blues, purples, and greens. I froze for two seconds before lurching forward and plucking it from her grasp, unceremoniously shoving it back into its separate drawer.

"Don't touch that," I snapped, Numberita still suffering from the shocks of seeing the quill Al had purchased for me - how had she even opened the drawer? I was sure I had charmed it shut a week ago.

"Merlin, _someone's_ touchy," she said, sniffing slightly in an altogether wounded manner. I cringed, already feeling terrible for snapping at her; after all, it wasn't her fault that her cousin had dumped me (okay, that I could understand - I _had _been an utter spineless idiot and lied to him for months) and then proceeded to pretend I didn't exist (now, that, I couldn't understand - that bloody git even ignored me when I WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM DURING CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE BURROW BACK IN SEVENTH YEAR THE BLASTED UTTER PRAT OUGHT TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEA-erm, I mean, I wasn't affected by the incident, of course - I'm a mature twenty-one-year-old, after all) for the next five years. I hadn't seen or had contact with him in four years and eight months, although I knew he still owled his family and Seth occasionally during the brief periods of calm between missions.

"Sorry," I said apologetically. Dominique lifted her nose before shrugging, her fingers moving to play with the delicate fabric of her blouse.

I watched her nervous movements for another sixty-two seconds; what was wrong? Dominique was _never _nervous, or anxious, or anything other than the intimidatingly beautiful and collected Weasley that she normally was.

"What's wrong?" I asked finally. She looked up at me quizzically before glancing down at her clenched hands. She frowned at them before releasing the fabric.

"Victoire," she said wearily, moving to stand near the window.

Oh. Victoire - Dominique's older sister - was a highly successful model, representing several major high-fashion designers and appearing on several magazine covers. She was every teen and pre-teen girl's idol...and Dominique's source of bitter resentment. You see, dear reader who would NEVER think of laughing at me (cough cough COUGH), Dominique was a bit jealous (shh you didn't hear it from me - seriously, if she found out I told you, she would _kill _me) of Victoire. She, much like Al (honestly, what was it with that family and older-younger sibling strife?), felt like her parents favoured their eldest daughter. Dominique was always compared to Victoire - not so much by the Weasley side of things but by the Delacour side of the family.

And, honestly, it was hard for a lowly trainee saddled with thousands of Galleons of student debt (Camelot University was _not _cheap; I was still paying off my debt as well) to compete with the multi-million Galleon entity that was Victoire Weasley.

"The usual?" I asked sympathetically. She sighed, staring out the window and at the bustling streets of Diagon Alley below.

"I don't know...at the family dinner last night she and Teddy seemed a bit strained. Teddy had to leave early for a meeting with his publicist, and Victoire being Victoire...well, she blew up. Dad and Mum both fussed over her, and by that point I had no way of telling them the news. Not without sounding like a petulant child trying to reassert herself as the center of attention."

Oh. Oh no - Dominique had _finally _been told that she would definitely be hired as an Associate at the GW firm once her training period was up, and she'd actually been looking forward to the usually-dreaded weekly family dinner so that she could tell her parents...

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly. Yup, I was still rubbish at consoling people. Or conversing. Or generally just being a normal human being.

Oh, sod off. Yes, I can see you laughing back there - yes, you with the Muggle electronic device.

Dominique laughed shortly before flipping her hair once more over her shoulder.

"Whatever. Nothing I can't handle," she said lightly. I eyed her for another moment, and she laughed before saying, "Seriously. Adela, I'm fine."

"Okay..." I said reluctantly before turning back to my parchment.

Five minutes of peaceful work passed, the only sounds being the calming scratching of the quill and the occasional noise from Dominique's corner. Then-

"So, what _is _that quill?"

I groaned; she really wasn't going to let it go. Like Rose, Dominique was doggedly determined when it came to getting her curiousity sated.

"It's nothing really - I just don't like to use it because it's expensive," I said, stumbling only a bit over the lie (hey! I was getting better! Besides, it wasn't _technically _a full lie. The opal quill _was _quite expensive).

A raised eyebrow from Dominique's direction - sigh. It was worth a shot.

"Al might have given it to me," I muttered quickly, my words blurring together in my haste to get the sentence over with.

Another pause. Then -

"Al _Potter_?"

Ugh.

I nodded stiffly, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on my parchment.

"My _cousin_? The Auror?"

...

No, the other Al Potter - you know, the one who invented bacon. _Honestly_.

...

Who invented bacon? Note to self: research and find said inventor. Visit grave (or house) of inventor and perform ritual of everlasting thanks (even though I don't eat bacon anymore - long story. It involves Seth. As always).

I kept my sarcastic (and witty, if I did say so myself) comments to myself, instead settling for a simple, "Yes."

"Oh," Dominique said, a stricken expression crossing her features.

Yes. _Oh_.

I steadfastly ignored her pitying gaze, my cheeks flushing as I concentrated on finishing my sentence. Daisy, prepare to be the unwitting frontrunner for the movement that will eventually abolish the practice of keeping house elves.

A knock sounded just as I rolled up the parchment to send off to the main lawyer on the case (a rather pompous bloke by the name of Cain Black - no relation to the infamous Black family). I exchanged a curious look with Dominique before calling out, "Come in!"

The door opened slowly, revealing a pretty and sophisticated-looking woman in a sleek charcoal grey suit. The one and only Hermione Granger-Weasley was in my office - but why? She seldom came to this section of the offices, and she rarely checked up on me any more. She walked in purposefully, her heels clicking smartly against the wooden floor, and stood before my desk. I stood up quickly, performing an awkward half-nod, half-bow (I never knew how to address her. I still got tongue-tied around her), which she graciously accepted with a small smile before quirking an eyebrow at Dominique (who, now that I thought about it, was probably supposed to be organising some files or something). Dominique said brightly, "Hi, Aunt Hermione!"

"Hello, Dominique, Adela," Ms. Granger said easily.

"Erm - hi," I stuttered. Oh! The parchment! Bending down hurriedly, I managed to smack myself in the head on the corner of the desk (oh, come _on_) on the way back up. Sigh.

Note to self: take ballet lessons. Or research some potion that will make me graceful.

"I have the research for the Vince case - Dominique thought about going about the case from an ethical standpoint instead of just focusing on the legal issues of the contract. You know, make the case one against house elves as slaves instead of just a typical suing," I rambled. Ms. Granger grinned - right, I'd forgotten she was famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked - Scorpius swore his father still burst out laughing uncontrollably whenever S.P.E.W. was mentioned) for her stance on pro-house elf rights.

She accepted the parchment easily, shrinking it with a silent flick of her wand, before her expression sobered.

"Adela, I'm going to need to see you in my office in exactly an hour," she said solemnly. GAH WHAT THAT DID NOT SOUND GOOD WAS I GOING TO GET FIRED OH NO WAS SETH GOING TO TAKE BACK MY ROLLING CHAIR I LOVED MY ROLLING CHAIR HE WAS GOING TO HAVE TO FIGHT ME TO THE DEATH TO GET IT BAC-

Oops. I realized Ms. Granger was looking at me oddly, and I swallowed before saying weakly, "Okay."

She nodded at me before turning on her heel and leaving, pausing only to call out, "Oh, and Dominique? Do organise the books quickly; Bones has been harping about it all day, and I'd rather not listen to another day of his complaints."

Dominique scowled at her back before sighing in resignation and standing up.

"Well, I reckon I've put it off long enough. Bones is sure to be about ready to eat his trousers by now," she said cheerfully. I stared at her disbelievingly; honestly, I couldn't see how she was so blasé about it - Richard Bones was GW's best criminal defense lawyer and was infamous for his fierce temper.

"I wonder why she wants to see me in an hour; couldn't she have just told me whatever she needed to tell me right now?" I mused, biting my lip nervously. I really didn't want to leave; as much work as it was, I _loved _this job.

Dominique shrugged again; "I don't know - maybe she wanted to tell you something in private?"

I frowned. "Alright, but then she could have just sent you out of the room. She was very specific with the time, though...I wonder if she wants me to meet someone?" I mused, Numberita already furiously working to solve the case.

Dominique rolled her eyes. "Ravenclaw," she muttered disdainfully. I stiffened, drawing myself up to my full (and pitifully minuscule) height.

"Out, lowly trainee!" I ordered imperiously, pointing a hand at the door. She stuck out her tongue before exiting, leaving only the faint scent of perfume behind her.

After she left, I sighed, turning around to look out the small window behind my desk. Below stood hordes of eagerly chattering students swarming the streets for the annual late summer shopping spree in preparation for the school year. I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing at the sight; my years at Hogwarts were some of the best years of my life. It was weird to think that I would never camp out in the library again, never careen down in my haste to get to the kitchens and its wonderful pumpkin juice, never escape into an abandoned classroom for a stolen kiss before the next class-

I shook my head briskly, dispelling the thoughts from Numberita. It did me no good to think of things that were gone.

Still...

I couldn't help but wonder about Al; where was he now? The last I'd heard of him, he was rapidly rising the ranks as an Auror. He'd graduated with top honors from the Merlin Auror Academy and was absent constantly due to the various top secret missions that were expected of Aurors. Harry Potter was dreadfully proud of him.

...As was I. Al had proved himself to be talented - not because he was Harry Potter's son, but because he was _Al. _No one could take that away from him.

I forced myself away from the window, walking instead to the door. I still had forty-eight minutes and twenty-six seconds until the meeting. I might as well grab a quick lunch before then - maybe some food would give me courage.

...Okay, so maybe I was just hungry.

"Oi! Adela!"

I looked up, my eyes widening as one very enthusiastic trainee came careening around the corner at a trajectory that landed him directly on...me.

_Oof._

"Gah! Sorry!" he apologized, quickly scrambling off of me. I waved off his apology, ignoring his offered hand and standing up, wincing slightly as my sore muscles flexed.

"It's fine, Henry," I said wearily. The trainee - Henry Patil - fidgeted uncomfortably. Henry, like Dominique, was one of the few trainees at the GW firm. He'd only been here for three months and two days, but he was very energetic and often quite meddlesome (although he did have good intentions...which somehow made it more annoying when he barged into my office with a platter full of bacon because he'd heard that I like it. And then I had to explain _why_ I couldn't eat bacon _and_ be tortured by the smell. Henry, of course, would promptly forget it and repeat the process the next week). Well, he was clearly dying to say something.

"What is it?"

And with that, the dam broke open. And by that, I meant that the bloke started spitting rapid fire words at me that even Numberita couldn't understand.

"-and that means someone's probably _died_ or maybe even _exploded_ I bet they exploded because that's way more fitting for Aurors and-"

I held up a hand to slow him down, opening my mouth to ask him (nicely, I swear!) to repeat his sentence. Wait. One of those words caught Numberita's attention -

"_Aurors_?" I asked incredulously. What on earth was he talking about? Automatically Numberita flashed to the green-eyed boy I always associated with the word 'auror,' and I had to forcibly shove that thought out of my head so I could concentrate on Henry's words.

Henry paused to take a deep breath, his skinny frame practically collapsing on itself from the effort.

"Well, I heard that Ms. Granger's expecting some Aurors this afternoon - confidential and all that. The word on the street is that _you _are somehow involved. Why would Aurors come to a law firm? It doesn't make any sense; aurors _hate_ lawyers. We make their work harder, so why would they come here?"

Henry was also the (demon) offspring (spawn) of one Parvati Patil. In other words, he was a compulsive gossiper. Last week he confronted me about my 'apparent violent tendencies.' Utter rubbish. Completely false. Honestly, the lies he picks up!

But he had a point - the meeting did match up with the time Ms. Granger asked me to go to her office. But why would I be involved with Aurors?

I leaned against the wall, my lips pursed as Numberita thought furiously, dismissing ideas as fast as she thought of them. Maybe they'd found out about that one time I whacked Scorpius too hard and he ended up in St. Mungo's for a day - no, Healer Park (remember her? The slightly scary Hufflepuff who healed me after the whole goblin thing) had assured me that it wasn't severe enough to merit a legal response. Maybe Ms. Granger _was_ going to fire me and she fired a violent response? No, why give me a full hour to plot a way around the backup? Maybe -

"Adela?"

I looked up in surprise, my thought train broken by the strangely hesitant words. I met Dominique's eyes, and the blonde bit her lip and flicked her eyes at Henry.

"Erm...Henry, mind getting me a copy of the Book of Magical Law? I need to double check the Magical Creatures section for the Vince case," I said. Henry nodded slowly, his eyes darting between Dominique and me, and left in the direction of the extensive library located on the top floor (oh, how I adored that library).

"What is it?" I asked briskly once Henry had left.

"I ran into Aunt Hermione - she said to come to her office immediately. The meeting's been moved up," she said in a hushed voice, her brows furrowing.

I swallowed and nodded, a small, jerky movement that betrayed my nervousness to Dominique. She was still looking at me with that troubled, pitying expression.

"Adela - there...there were a lot of Aurors with her," she said hesitantly, her voice coloured with worry.

I nodded again, saying, "Thanks, Dominique. I-I'll see you later," before brushing my pocket to make sure my wand was still there - it was - and, glancing one last time at Dominique, straightened my shoulders and made my way down to my fate.

Well, this should be fun.

**AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry it was a lot of dialogue - I had to set up the background/situation! :) Anyway, as always - please review! All reviews are returned with a teaser of the next chapter c;**


	2. Initiating the Adela Tomato

**Initiating the Adela Tomato**

I paused outside of the thick mahogany door leading to Ms. Granger's office, staring with unblinking eyes at the simple golden plaque embedded in the wood, the clean letters reading "HERMIONE GRANGER-WEASLEY" and in slightly smaller letters "MANAGING PARTNER."

One second passed...then two...

I could hear muffled murmurs coming from inside the room. By the sound of it, there were at least six people in there. Gah. The voices were hushed but urgent, and occasionally one voice would rise in frustration before quickly followed by a chorus of _shh_'s.

Okay, I could do this. Setting my jaw and raising my fist, I moved to knock on the wooden door.

Just as I was about to knock, however, someone said urgently, "Someone's at the door." I moved to step back hurriedly, but before I could the door swung open, and I gazed into the startled (and very familiar) emerald green eyes staring back at me.

Merlin.

Albus Severus Potter stared at me, his brief expression of surprise rapidly melting back into an expression of cool indifference. I hadn't seen him in four years and eight months, and he had definitely changed in the almost half a decade that had passed. He still had the bright green eyes, unruly raven black hair, and high cheekbones that I knew all too well...but his face was thinner, his jaw line sharper, and his mouth was set in a firm line - gone was the softness of a teenage boy living in his father's shadow. And yet...I could see slight shadows under his eyes, and there was no trace of a smile - nothing but weary resolve.

I swallowed thickly, unable to tear my eyes from his; suddenly I was no longer an inexperienced Associate floundering her way through cases. No, I was back in Hogwarts, a Sixth Year struggling to save her friends from the crazed rampage of a goblin lusting for revenge. The events of my Sixth Year that I had tried so hard to repress came flooding mercilessly into Numberita, and I found myself unable to move, to breathe, to _think, _left powerless in the clutches of memories that _shouldn'tcouldn't_ be brought up again-

Flash. The cheers of the Quidditch match fading to stunned silence as people realised that there was a man murdering his son in the fields below-

Flash. I was sinking to my knees, cradling Seth's head and vowing tearfully to never eat bacon again if _he would just live_ -

Flash. Ragnuk's rasping voice, sinuous and twisting its poisoned barbs deep into Numberita, followed quickly by the searing sparks of hex after hex-

Flash. A man, his face twisted into a morbid parody of a wolf's muzzle, leaping, his lips curled into a vicious snarl - fingers curled into jagged claws, flashing in the moonlight -

Flash. The sterilized light of the hospital room, struggling to hold back tears, to walk _don't run_ out of the room, leaving the green eyed boy behind -

_The green eyed boy who was standing right in front of me. _

I broke free from the memories with a slight gasp, my chest heaving in and out as I struggled to maintain my composure. Al eyed me wordlessly before tilting his head slightly so that his cheek faced the contents of the room (which I still couldn't see - the prat was blocking the door with his body) and said coolly, his eyes never leaving mine, "Sir, it's a civilian - early twenties, female, appears to be listening in. Would you like me to remove her?"

I blinked, an indignant scowl appearing on my face as righteous annoyance overpowered any hesitation I had felt at seeing Al. _Remove _me? I HAD BEEN INVITED HERE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Obviously, the almost five years of in field action had not changed Al's status as a complete and utter _prat_.

"Oh,_ honestly_, Al - why do you insist on calling me 'sir'? I told you I didn't like that!" came a familiar voice from somewhere inside the room. Harry Potter? Why was the Head of the Auror Department here? Usually they only sent in the Aurors for cases...I frowned, my eyes narrowing a bit as I contemplated the situation; this situation must be more serious than I thought.

A sudden thought hit Numberita - had they found Ragnuk? My eyes widened and my heart beat quickened; that would explain why they had summoned me - a witch with no professional combat magic training or connection with any case that I could think of, unless Daisy had somehow up and murdered Vince or something like that and even then that was more the work of Magical Law Enforcement - to the meeting. I was one of the few people who had seen - and spoken with - Ragnuk before he had escaped.

"It's just Adela, Harry. I asked her here because I thought she deserved to know," came Hermione's voice.

"Alright then - let her in, Al." Harry again.

I couldn't help but look smug at that - _see_, I _did_ belong here. Al raised a single dark eyebrow at my preening, and suddenly I could see a glimpse of the sixteen-year-old boy I'd known so well underneath the clinically professional exterior.

I settled for the only mature response there was for such disregard of my obviously esteemed status (oh, sod off) and stuck out my tongue. I was rewarded with a subtle roll of his eyes - looked like he was as addicted to rolling his eyes as he was five years ago - before I pushed past him and entered the room.

Five pairs of very curious eyes all snapped onto me, each one eying me with varying degrees of suspicion and interest. Harry Potter leaned against the windowsill at the opposite end of Hermione's spacious and well-lit office, three Aurors robed in simple office attire - to blend in, Numberita deduced - flanking him, each one positioned at the various entry points to the office. Those three were a bit frightening; I gulped under their sharp gazes, glancing down at my feet to avoid their eyes.

Eep. I wasn't good under public scrutiny. I felt my cheeks begin to flush the angry, mottled red I deemed the "Adela Tomato." Brilliant

One of the three - a pretty blonde with sharp, regal features and icy blue eyes - stepped forward, her wand rising rapidly to point directly at my throat.

"No, Vane. That won't be necessary. She's here under Hermione's command, after all," Harry said easily, turning his head slightly to examine the framed photographs lining the oak bookshelf beside him. He pushed his slightly-askew wire-rimmed glasses back into place and, still peering at the photographs, exclaimed, "Hey! I didn't know you still had this photo! Merlin, Al and Rose look so young here! Look, there's that bloody ferret you always brought around with you - it always used to chew my socks, the blasted thing-"

I shot a surreptitious glance at Al; Merlin, his dad - the Chosen One, the one who had killed Voldemort, the oh-great-and-powerful head of the Aurors - was _adorable_. With a capital 'A.' It was obvious that he was the very picture of a doting father. Although I had talked to him (very) briefly whenever I visited the Burrow for Christmas dinner or whenever he was visiting Rose's family at the same time I was, I still didn't know him very well. Al winced, the tips of his ears flushing pink, and he scowled fiercely at me when he caught me looking. I blinked and looked away quickly, trying (and failing) to whistle innocently. Note to self: learn how to whistle.

"_Dad_," he hissed, looking like he wanted to crawl up in a hole and hide forever. Hey! I recognized that look! Seth always wore that one whenever I bellowed out my affectionate feelings in public places. I didn't know why he did that, really. It wasn't like it was _embarrassing_ or anything. Sheesh.

"Mm?" Harry Potter asked, still fixated with the pictures.

"The _case_," Al said pointedly. Mr. Potter blinked before setting down the picture frame, his green eyes - Merlin, he and Al really _did _look alike - narrowing as his face darkened. I swallowed; suddenly Numberita could see how Harry Potter had become the Head of the Auror Department - all traces of the delightfully affectionate father were vanished, leaving only grim efficiency in its place.

"Right. Greyback's broken out of Azkaban," he said, his voice full of bitter anger. I stifled a gasp; Greyback had escaped?

Oh no. Oh no _no nono - _Numberita was paralyzed, unable to think of anything but blood and wolf and teeth and _little one_ and _oh dear bloody Merlin he was going to come after me _-

Something small impacted sharply against the back of my neck, snapping Numberita from her panic. Catching the object automatically (thank you, Beater reflexes), I frowned when I saw that it was the delicate silver cap of an ink well. Numberita quickly calculated the direction from which it had came using the approximate velocity with which it had hit my neck to the direction at which it had fallen, leading me directly to the impassive face of...

Albus Potter. Of course.

He didn't look at me, instead standing stoically by the door, the very image of an attentive Auror on duty. Hmph. Well, he had helped me - Numberita could grudgingly give him that.

I turned my attention back to Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger was looking at me with a slightly concerned expression, and I shook my head at her, smiling weakly to show that I was okay. She frowned and said, "Listen, Adela, I thought you deserved to know what was going on. I've been in situations where no one would tell me or Harry or _any _of us anything because they thought we were too young or needed to be protected, and I wouldn't want to wish that frustration of not knowing anything on anyone. We know that he has a...well, frankly, an obsession with you. In Azkaban he repeatedly rambled about a 'little one,' which from testimonies we gather is you. I tell this not to scare you but to let you know what is out there."

Somehow, the brisk way in which she spoke made it a bit better - if she had looked terrified or worried I think I would have started going into full out panic mode right then and there (hey, I never pretended to be a Gryffindor).

I nodded slowly, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. Thankfully, although my physical state was a bit paralyzed at the moment, Numberita was still fully functional. I forced Numberita to think of the problem in purely clinical terms, stubbornly pushing fear and personal memories away in order to focus on the facts on hand.

Greyback wasn't the most intelligent of people, and Azkaban was the most secure prison the Wizarding World had to offer. One needed months - no, _years_ - of careful planning in order to even _attempt_ to break out of the iron chokehold the Ministry had on it. Although the Dementors were no longer employed to guard the prisoners, several other nasty creatures did; I'd even heard that the Ministry had _dragons _there. Considering that it was an isolated escape and not a mass break out, Numberita could assume that it hadn't been a blatantly violent endeavour; in other words, no huge explosions or breaking down of cell doors. A single escape meant that the biggest advantage would be surprise and stealth; the whole operation would depend on delaying the discovery of the absence.

So, basically, Greyback had to have had help. Numberita tried to picture the hulking werewolf stealthily sneaking his way out of the prison and failed; honestly, the brute was more likely to bellow and kill as many people as he could.

Unfortunately, the only person Numberita could think of as a possible mastermind behind the escape was one crazed goblin.

Sigh.

"Okay...how did he escape?" I asked slowly, desperately hoping that the answer would be "oh, the guards just decided to take a break or something lol so Greyback was able to walk out on his own no sign of help whatsoever weee lol omgzz."

...Okay, so maybe that answer was unlikely to ever come out of Harry Potter's mouth. But, hey, a girl can dream!

...

I didn't want to have to face the alternative.

"There was a small tunnel dug underneath the cell. Whoever dug it was small and powerful enough to break through the magical barriers encasing the prison. No sign of escape through the tunnel; whoever dug it-"

"Joined Greyback and guided him through the escape," I finished, my heart sinking.

Mr. Potter nodded, his mouth set firmly in a grim line. "The magical traces left on the tunnel matched those found on the medallions," he continued.

Brilliant. Just plain bloody brilliant.

Ragnuk had finally decided to make his move. The question was - were we ready for it?

Another thought hit Numberita, one that had been nagging at the corner of my mind for the last five years and seven months.

"Erm, sir," I trailed off; I wasn't completely sure what to call the saviour of the Wizarding World.

"Harry," Harry Potter corrected.

Right. Merlin, this was weird.

"Er...Harry...I still don't understand how Ragnuk broke through the barriers; the most powerful wizards of our time combined their magic to form those barriers - how did one goblin break it? And then there's the whole issue of him being able to Apparate within Hogwarts's boundaries...and Greyback's transformation into a wolf without the full moon. I'm _sure_ Ragnuk's behind both Greyback's escape and his odd control over his shiftings; but _how_? The only magic powerful enough to accomplish that would be the Elder Wand, but that's impossible! It was destroyed in the battle."

The Elder Wand had been destroyed sometime during the Battle of Hogwarts, and no one knew what had happened to the remains. So, there went the only explanation Numberita could come up with for Ragnuk's considerable power; sure, goblins _were _considerably more gifted than wizards at magic - after all, they could complete feats on their own that wizards could only do with the help of wands - but without that wand, even Ragnuk wouldn't be able to break down Azkaban's barrier - even if it was only a small opening in the barrier - or Apparate within Hogwarts.

I paused; why were Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter looking away?

With a sharp glance first at Harry and then the three Aurors on guard in succession followed by a slight nod of approval from Harry's direction, Ms. Granger took a deep breath before meeting my eyes.

"This information cannot leave this room," she began.

I nodded, Numberita already racing in anticipation of what she would say - had they somehow found the Elder Wand remains? Had it not been destroyed?

"The Elder Wand was never destroyed during the Battle. That was a lie we spread to ensure that no one would ever go looking for it again. Harry put it in a safe location after repairing his own wand, but we have reasons to believe that the goblin may have infiltrated the place and retrieved the Elder Wand. Ron is leading a team of Aurors to that location as we speak to confirm the wand's presence, but I am nearly a hundred percent certain that the goblin has the Elder Wand," she said solemnly.

Great. That explained how he'd seemed to possess such unnatural powers - I shivered; what else could he do with that wand?

Seeing my fear, Harry said gently, "Don't worry - we're posting an Auror to watch over you until Ragnuk and Greyback are contained. Don't feel as if you need to change your routine; in fact, don't - it will only raise suspicion and unwanted attention. You will be perfectly safe. We will track them down if it is the last thing that I do." His last words were fierce, his eyes turning piercing once more as he clenched his wand with whitened fingers. I was suddenly glad that I wasn't on the receiving end of his anger; I didn't envy Ragnuk or Greyback.

"Vane," Harry said. The blonde woman turned sharply from her post by the window, looking expectantly at her boss.

"Yes?" she asked.

"This is Eve Vane, Adela. She'll be one of the two Aurors assigned to you. She will switch out with Al here and will be guarding you from a distance."

Three things happened after Harry Potter said those fateful words-

One. Vane threw me a rather disgusted look before sniffing and turning away pointedly. Fantastic. Just what I needed - an Auror who hated me.

Two. Al let out a yell in protest. Great to know that being near me is that much of a punishment. Thank you, Al Potter, for lowering my self esteem.

Three. I also let out a yell in protest. What? I hardly wanted - or _needed;_ I had a wand _and_ a Beater's bat, two weapons which I could use quite proficiently, if I did say so myself! - guards, let alone two Aurors who _hated_ me.

"Dad!" Al protested, all his stiffness forgotten in his annoyance. Harry lifted a hand, shaking his head sharply.

"Al. You've been in the field for three years now. I couldn't be prouder of you...but do _not_ let your pride get in the way of your work," he warned.

Al scowled before nodding, shooting me an icy glare - hey! I hadn't _asked_ to be guarded.

Which reminded me -

"Mr. Po-erm, _Harry_, with all due respect...I hardly need or want guards. I handled Greyback and Ragnuk perfectly well five years ago, and I can do that again now if need be. I refuse to live a life in which I constantly have to look over my shoulder and require the assistance of two highly trained Aurors who are better off, and I suggest this with the highest respect for your opinions, sir, somewhere else where they are actually needed - like the retrieval of Greyback and Ragnuk," I said.

His mouth settled into a firm frown, and a rather stubborn glint shone from his green eyes.

"Your opinion is appreciated, Adela, but I won't be changing my mind."

No. Nononono - _don't say it please don't -_

"My son and Ms. Vane will be guarding you starting tomorrow."

Bloody hell.

**Author Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D I was overwhelmed with the response to the first chapter! Thank you so so much for that - it really made my day :)**

**As a side note - I will be following book canon and not the movieverse (where Harry broke the Elder wand). **

** Well, Ragnuk's appeared again. Oof. And so the action (or at least the angst xD ) begins! ;o**

** Oh, and with the bacon thing a couple of you guys were asking about (I would too! Adela and bacon are practically synonymous by this point) – some discerning readers might have caught that in OQaS there was one little detail in the chapter "Counting Sethogriffs" where Adela promised to never eat bacon again if Seth lived (this was after the Ragnuk cursed Seth while controlling Xavier). She's been keeping to that promise, but it's been difficult xD **

** She still drinks as much pumpkin juice/consumes as much brownies as ever though x] **

** As always, please review! All reviewers will be given a teaser of the next chapter c;**

**IMPORTANT: I HAVE CHANGED MY PEN NAME FROM 'ELIENE' TO 'QUILLSTRIKE'**


	3. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (of EVIL)

**Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (of EVIL)**

_"My son and Ms. Vane will be guarding you starting tomorrow."_

Crud. This was _not_ good. Harry ignored my increasingly horrified expression, continuing on calmly like he hadn't just completely ruined the lives of two people (okay, so maybe that _was_ being a bit dramatic. But he had completely ruined my day, perhaps even day and three hours, depending on how badly Numberita took it).

"Now, Bones, Edgecombe - follow me. We need to head back to see if Ron's team has sent word yet; Hermione, can you...?"

Ms. Granger nodded briskly, withdrawing her wand smoothly and silently flicking it at the bookshelves situated at the opposite end of her spacious office. Several heavy tomes slid smoothly from their places and flew over, landing with heavy _thuds_ on the glass coffee table beside me.

"Already on it," she said. One of the books - a rather large one bound in red leather - flipped open, and I caught a glimpse of a rather gruesome diagram of a half-man, half-werewolf howling in agony labeled neatly with the words, "TRANSFORMATIONS MOSTE POTENTE."

Harry flashed her a grateful smile before nodding at the two Aurors. The Aurors exchanged looks before leaving their posts and Apparating with two successive _pops_.

"Right, and Adela?" Harry said, pausing mid-twirl.

"Yes?"

"Don't worry. I'm sure Greyback won't dare to go after you," he said kindly before Apparating with a swift turn of his heel.

That wasn't what I was worried about - well, maybe it was to a lesser extent - but, no, that wasn't my main concern. My eyes drifted over to the pale blue and green eyes glaring at me.

Yeah, the two highly trained Aurors left in the room were ranking pretty high on my "List of Dangers to Awesome Adela."

"Oh, Adela?"

I looked at Ms. Granger readily, glad for the excuse to break eye contact with the two grinches currently hulking beside me.

"Don't forget to keep in touch with Black. Remember - speed is imperative," she said. I breathed a sigh of relief; _this_, I could handle. Angry Aurors? Not so much.

Eager to get back to some semblance of normality, I decided to just ignore the two Debbie Downers.

"Will do, Ms. Granger!" I said cheerfully, lifting my hand in a salute. What? I told you I still wasn't completely sure how to act around her! The woman was intimidating - it wasn't my fault! I heard a muffled snicker from my right, but when I turned to glare at the offender, only innocent green eyes stared back at me. Git.

I sniffed, lifting my nose in the air, and swept regally out of the room. Or at least tried to - I bumped into the coffee table on the way (_how_ that happened Numberita had no idea - the table was _behind_ me, for Merlin's sake!) and stumbled, hissing muffled curses under my breath, before managing to right myself and continue my exit (albeit with considerably redder cheeks).

As I left the room, two echoing footfalls fell behind me. Great.

"You know, Harry said you didn't have to start until tomorrow. I hardly think you'd want to start earlier than you have to," I pointed out, not bothering to look behind me.

A pause. Then-

"This is the way leading to the exit, Lancaster. The world doesn't revolve around you," came the snide reply. Well. Good to know that Al was back to his prat self. His words stung a bit, and I had to blink back unexpected tears (oh, come _on_ - what was I, twelve? Why was I _crying_?) at the blatant scorn interlaced in his words.

A sudden thought hit Numberita -

Turning to face the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum of Evil, I put on my best accusatory expression (Seth always told me that particular one made me look as I was constipated and/or giving birth to a unicorn. I hit him with ol' Bessie the Second...or OBES, for short. Hehe acronyms were fun) and asked, "Well, why didn't you just Apparate away like the others?"

This time it was Vane who spoke, her blue eyes rolling upwards like she was doing me a favor just by talking to me. Bitterweed.

"_Because _we have an assignment in town. The Wizarding World does not go to a standstill just because some _werewolf's_ broken out with the help of a _goblin_. We still have work to do," she said condescendingly.

I bristled; from the way she put it, Greyback was child's play and something she clearly thought was not worth her time. This was exactly why Ragnuk and other lunatics were angry - because wizards had underestimated them for years, writing them off as helpless, lesser creatures who couldn't even use wands -

I shot a quick glance at Al; he knew just as well as I did the severity of the break out and the damage Ragnuk and Greyback had caused. Would he let Vane get away with this potentially dangerous misconception?

Something flickered in his eyes, but he set his jaw and looked pointedly away from my gaze. A pang of hurt hit my chest; well, if that was how he wanted it, fine. I'd give him his wish.

From now on, there was no history between Al and me. He was just an Auror that had happened to be assigned to me...not the boy who-

I stopped Numberita before she could go down that painful route. I straightened my shoulders and, tearing my gaze from Al's, turned back around.

"There is no need to guard me. I can handle myself perfectly well without aid, but I understand if you must continue due to your superior's orders. As such, I think it is in both of our best interests to maintain as little contact as possible. Goodbye," I said stiffly. Then, without waiting for a response, I walked swiftly down the carpeted hallway and turned right to catch the lift.

I had work to do - after all, Daisy was still in desperate need of help, and just because Greyback had escaped didn't mean that suddenly her troubles would stop - no, the trial would continue on tomorrow, and I had to let Black know of Dominique's idea before it was too late.

Before heading to the library to do some much-needed research on prior cases (there must be _some _precedent for such a case!), I caught the back lift (_no_, I did not avoid the main lift because Al and Vane were there - whatever gave you _that_ idea?) down two floors (okay, so maybe I could have walked down...but I'm lazy. And I have no shame. Two qualities which generally end up with my taking the lift much more than normal people, but hey - that's why I'm Awesome Adela!).

Pausing outside the frosted glass door, I mentally steeled myself for the ordeal ahead of me; what? You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not.

Cain Black is the most insufferable prat in all of existence. He's pompous and self-important. He graduated from Hogwarts seven years before me, and he always liked to talk about the "good old days" before "Hogwarts went downhill with the presence of _some_ hooligans." And then he'd look pointedly at me - like _I'd_ caused any trouble in my Hogwarts days. As if! I was the very picture of a perfect model student.

...Oh, sod off. So maybe I _had_ tackled a few people and been involved in the biggest fight since the Battle of Hogwarts...but that was besides the point.

Okay. It was now or never -

(I kind of preferred 'never' but I had a job to do..)

Sigh. Adult responsibility and all that.

Opening the door, I inwardly flinched when I heard the telling sound of a swivel chair turning sharply. Black, to my dismay, had an even bigger chair than I did (which told you something about the size of his over-inflated ego, the git), all leather and engraved wood and just sheer beaut-UGLINESS. UGLINESS I TELL YOU.

...Okay, so maybe I _sort_ of envied him for that chair. But hey! My chair was perfectly nice.

His was just able to swivel at 1.5x the rate that mine could.

"_What_ is it, Lancaster? I swear, it's like you run your papers through a snowmobile before you give them to me, I've had to spend the last _hour _trying to decipher _one page_- a rubbish use of my time, I might add-" he began, his voice cross and his words clipped. He leaned forward, interlacing his fingers and resting his head on his hands, his elbows pressed against the smooth black wood of his desk.

And so it began. I gritted my teeth, ignored his complaints, and plopped myself down inelegantly on one of the two smaller leather chairs without waiting for invitation (I'm rebellious, what can I say).

Black scowled at me but said nothing, which was an improvement - I could _almost_ tolerate him when he was silent. Black was, unfortunately, the head of my division, which focused on the ethical cases more than the financial or criminal ones.

Dominique specialized in the criminal division of the firm, and her division boss was the Richard Bones I'd told you about - you know, the one with the short temper and ruthless manner by which he tackled his cases.

He closed his blue-grey eyes in exaggerated exasperation, sighing dramatically and shaking his head (git). "Well? Are you going to speak or are you just going to just sit there like an idiot? _Honestly_, your generation just can't seem to _think_ - you lot are too fixated with your newfangled gadgets, I swear-"

Well, _I_ swore that Black was really an eighty-year-old man in a twenty-eight-year-old's body. He'd grown up in a rather proper Muggle family (descending from nobility, as he liked to remind me), and his stilted manner was basically the opposite of my...er, _exuberant_ disposition.

"Dominique came up with an idea for the Vince case - make Daisy the figurehead of the movement against the unjust enslavement of House Elves as a whole. Focus on the evidence of mistreatment - I'm _sure_ we can scrounge up _some_ witness who's seen some sort of abuse. Add that to the fact that Vince is an insufferable jerk - much like yourself, maybe even _worse _if that's even possible - and we'll have the Council on our side," I said quickly, wanting to get this whole ordeal over with.

Black blinked, leaning back on his chair and regarding me silently. His eyes narrowed at me, but I could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere. To his credit, he was seriously considering my proposal - as arrogant as Black was, he was a Ravenclaw and incredibly good at his job. Besides, as a Muggleborn he had never grown up with the idle acceptance of House Elves ingrained in his mind, and he was uncomfortable with the notion (which was probably a part of the reason why Ms. Granger hired him; she refused to hire anyone who outwardly condoned the practice).

Finally he sighed heavily and reached up to run his hand through his short-cropped dark blonde hair.

"Contact Daisy - ask her for a list of all the people who have visited the Vince household. Make her name as many people as possible. We must be missing someone, some witness who is just hiding out due to fear of punishment from the Vinces," he ordered. Then he looked back down, engrossing himself once more in the stacks of parchments lined neatly across his desk (Black, annoyingly, was a complete neat freak).

Well, I was clearly being dismissed. I resisted the urge to whack him with the wooden bat I'd shrunken and stuck in my small bag, standing stiffly and moving to exit the office.

"Oh, and Adela?"

I froze thirteen inches from the door. I was so close to sweet, sweet escape...

"Yes?" I finally made out through gritted teeth.

"Do try and comb your hair. We can't have that hideous lump you call hair degrading the GW name. I don't know what kind of newfangled fads you young 'uns like to don but _honestly_, use some common sense - in _what_ world does a matted bush look attractive?" he said snidely.

I was going to kill him.

I glared blindly at the air in front of me, my fingers twitching towards my bat.

"_You-_" I began, my voice low and venomous. Just as I was about to whirl around and throttle him, however, a high voice called out, "_Adela!_"

Somewhere through the haze of my rage Numberita recognized the voice - Dominique.

I tried to block out her cries, determined to tackle him -

"_Adela!_"

ARGH. I sighed, breathing heavily, before forcing my tense shoulders to relax. Without bothering to look backwards, I left the office, making sure to slam the door behind me.

As soon as I rounded the corner, Dominique fairly tackled me in her determination to extract information from me.

"_Finally_, I've been looking for you for _ages_ - what happened? Why were there Aurors?" she hissed, just barely managing to keep her voice low. I glanced around for eavesdroppers before motioning for Dominique to come closer. She bent her head lower (she was a full ten centimeters taller than me) expectantly, sending a waft of her perfume towards me.

"Greyback's escaped," I whispered furtively. She gasped, letting out a strangled cry. She knew just as well as I did the effects Greyback could have on people - after all, she'd fought on that fateful night as well.

"Ho-how?" she asked as we walked towards the lift. I pressed the down button firmly before turning to her and saying quietly, "They expect he's had aid from outside - probably Ragnuk."

She blinked, her horrified expression transforming to one of confusion.

"Who?"

Right - I'd forgotten that it wasn't common knowledge. To prevent a mass panic, the Unspeakables had ensured that the public only knew that Greyback responsible for the infamous night. They had no idea that Ragnuk - a goblin - was the mastermind behind the whole thing.

Honestly, there was something about the concealment of information that made me a bit uncomfortable, but what was the other option? Say, "Oh, yeah, b-t-dubs, there's a mad goblin - you know, the ones you see everyday at Gringotts? The ones guarding your life's savings? - on the loose, and he's pretty much determined to destroy the entirety of the wizarding population woo but you know yolo."

...

Okay, so maybe I've been reading a bit too many Muggle magazines. But they're strangely addicting! I swear they put some charm on them or something.

"He's the goblin behind it all," I explained. We stepped into the lift, the conversation ceasing when we saw that Bones was in the lift as well. Dominique automatically stiffened, shifting slightly to put me in between her and Bones. Well. So much for Gryffindor bravery.

Being a kind and polite person (oh, stop laughing - I can see you back there), I nodded at Bones. He sniffed and turned away. Well, looked like His Royal Big-Headedness wasn't going to lower himself to our level today. Bones was one step below Ms. Granger, the second most powerful person in the firm. He was very talented, of course, but he was also a bit arrogant. Honestly - this firm had quite a surplus of arrogant people (not including me, of course - I've never been arrogant a second of my lif-oh, sod off).

I shrugged, turning back to face the gleaming golden elevator doors.

When the opened with a smooth whisper of metal against stone, I nodded once more to Bones - ignored, again - and stepped onto the marble floor of the lobby, my shoes tapping softly against the surface.

Hm...I guess I'd have to visit the library later; finding new witnesses was much more important at this point. Making my way to the line of granite fireplaces towards the right side of the spacious lobby, I said to Dominique, "But you can't tell anyone - if the Aurors find out I told you, they'll probably chain me to a troll and throw me to the bottom of the ocean."

She rolled her eyes. "Dramatic as you are, you do have a point - don't worry, I won't tell anyone. But - Adela - what if he goes after you?"

I rummaged through the small bag I carried with me, pushing past the shrunken bat to locate my container of Floo powder. Where _was_ the bloody thing?

Oh - there it was! I brushed aside a spare flask of pumpkin juice - hey, I'd forgotten I still had that! Note to self: drink it before it expires - and retrieved the small velvet pouch. The bag (which was a deep navy blue with glittering bronze embroidery etched around the edges - Ravenclaw colours, of course) had been a twenty-first birthday present from Rose. She'd charmed it with a brilliant Undetectable Extension Charm, and I'd taken to bringing it with me where I went.

Pulling open the bronze thread tying it shut, I said, "Your uncle's assigned two Aurors to babysit me, not that I need it or anything."

She watched me as I struggled to fit my fingers through the tiny hole that had opened at the top. After three seconds she huffed in a very Rose-like manner and, reaching over to grab the bag from my hands, pulled the string so the bag was completely open.

"_Honestly_, you're so lazy it's a wonder you even get up in the morning - would it hurt you to pull the string a few more inches to open it?"

I shrugged, accepting the now-open bag from her, and poured a handful of glittering ash grey dust into the palm of my left hand.

"Who is it, by the way?" she asked curiously.

Er. Better get prepared for a hasty exit - Dominique was sure to make a scene when I told her which certain green-eyed individual was assigned to me -

Stepping quickly across the metal grate (and only managing to _slightly_ scrape my ankle against the steel prongs - success!), I lifted my palm so that it was parallel to the ground.

"Erm...Eve Vane and Al Potter," I said hurriedly. I dropped the handful of dust quickly, ignoring her muffled splutters, and shouted, "Leaky Cauldron!"

Emerald green flames erupted immediately around me, enveloping my body with a strange tickling sensation, almost as if a million dry wings were brushing against my skin. Screwing my eyes tightly shut - I hated taking the Floo, but I wasn't that good at Apparating (okay, so maybe I'd managed to Splinch off two toenails and half my hair the last time I'd tried) so I had to resort to using it most of the time - I prepared myself for the disorienting sensation of being propelled forcefully through the fireplace chute to a location many kilometers away.

When my body finally ceased to be flung around haphazardly, I stumbled out of the grate, my eyes still firmly shut, and doubled over, my breakfast making a reappearance (yup, I definitely shouldn't have eaten all those brownies) onto the dark stone floor of the Leaky Cauldron.

Gagging slightly and lifting my hand to swipe clumsily at my mouth, I looked up shakily to see the very disapproving eyes of one landlady dressed in a simple cream-coloured apron with black and yellow edgings - a Hufflepuff, then. My eyes moved to her face, taking in the long sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes. I vaguely recognized her from some small article in the Prophet; what had it been...? Numberita struggled for six seconds before latching on to the memory; ah! It had been a wedding announcement for Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott.

"Erm..." I began tentatively. Hufflepuffs scared me to no end, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it - seriously, those blokes were _scary_.

Her scowl deepened, and she looked pointedly at the vomit now staining her floor.

"I like your...pants?" I tried weakly. She didn't blink, still crossing her arms over her chest.

My gaze flicked down; oh. She was wearing a skirt.

Maybe she'd feel better if I cleaned up the mess; I reached into my pocket and yanked out my wand clumsily, sending a shower of neon green sparks cascading onto the stone, where they ricocheted before eventually dissipating against the bed of carefully-tended flowers by the window. The flowers wilted, their colourful petals rapidly blackening before crumpling to dry dust.

Crud.

"Um...I can fix that?" I tried hopefully. When she didn't reply (Merlin, this was more scary than the time Seth caught me 'accidentally' breaking his figurine of the Quidditch star he adored), I began to swing my wand in the motions necessary to cast a quick _Reparo, _but her hand shot out and held my wand arm firmly at the elbow.

"Out!" She ordered, her eyes now dangerously narrow slits.

Eep. "But...I need to see Daisy, she's my client and-"

"_OUT!" _

_..._

I left rather quickly after that - what? You would have too, if you'd seen how scary she looked! I'm telling you, Hufflepuffs are all secretly evil.

Once outside the Leaky Cauldron, I moved to where she couldn't see me and gazed contemplatively up at the fifth floor where I knew Daisy was staying.

Now, how to get up there...

I turned my head, searching the nearby surrounding rapidly for anything I could use. Unfortunately I was on the Muggle side of London and not Diagon Alley, so I couldn't see any broomsticks I could hijac-er, _borrow_.

My eyes landed on an odd, hideously-yellow machine lying abandoned three meters away. It had a long, sturdy-looking metal attachment with a sort of basket protruding upwards diagonally to rest against the building adjacent to the Leaky Cauldron. Numberita worked rapidly to come up with a plan - okay, I could climb up that long metal thing and reach the basket before jumping to the right one point five meters to that wide window ledge (thank Merlin Daisy's room was one on the very edge) and climbing in through that open window.

My plan set, I pushed past the gaggle of men in odd yellow plastic hats and neon orange vests (odd gear, but who was I to question Muggle style?), ignoring their loud protests and clambering on top of the machine.

I'd climbed trees countless times while growing up - how different could this be?

Yes, I decided, gazing with satisfaction at the long metal attachment rising up in front of me. This would do quite nicely.

So, still ignoring the yells (honestly, Muggles were so _loud_), I reached up and grasped the first protrusion, resting my foot against the metal before pushing myself up.

Don't worry, Daisy. One highly competent (and not at all inexperienced) Associate was coming to your aid.

Note to self: convince Seth to refer to me as "the Almighty Associate." Eat a brownie as congratulation on my clever use of alliteration.

Brownies were always a good end (and beginning. And middle) to any day.

**Author Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Seriously, reading all these reviews always makes my day! :D You guys rock!**

**As always, please review! c: I return all reviews with a teaser of the next chapter ;)**

**Thank you so much to my team of three - the Brilliant Betas? Beloved Betas? Beautiful Betas? Eh, I'll have to work on the alliteration xD**

**Anyway - without InsaneontheInside, vanillapalmtrees, and Abbey Grimm Dawn this chapter would be a lot less coherent (and probably result in y'all wanting to gouge your eyes out). (side note - I've always wanted to use the phrase 'y'all')So thank you, oh wonderful goddesses of literature, for saving this chapter (and hundreds of eyes)!**

**oh - if you're curious about the machine Adela climbed onto - it's a cherry picker that looks a bit like this: (without the spaces and the ~ at the start)**

**h~t~t~p / / i. istockimg file_thumbview_approve/1732046/2/stock-photo-17320 46-cherry-picker . jpg**


	4. An Active (and Delicious) Social Life

**An Active (and Delicious) Social Life**

"So, you can't think of anyone else who visited? No meddling neighbors, tax collectors, familial relations, nothing?" I tried again, barely managing to stop a frustrated sigh from escaping from my lips - the poor House Elf already looked like she was about to bang her head against the nightstand again; I didn't need to give her any hint that I was annoyed with the lack of headway we were making.

Daisy shook her head fretfully, her big, luminous green eyes practically glowing in the dim room. In order to avoid further confrontation, Daisy had left (okay, escaped) Vince's mansion and was now hiding out in one of the rooms at the back of the Leaky Cauldron.

Although she wasn't _technically_ free yet, she was able to avoid having to be ordered back due to a new Ministry decree that had passed only three months and twelve days ago (Ms. Granger had been one of the most prominent proponents of the decree) that stated that the (slave) contract between master and house elf could be temporarily suspended in extreme cases. Seeing as Daisy was currently suing Vince, the Ministry had granted her temporary freedom...of course, that didn't mean that Vince couldn't just go and physically take her (although that _would_ hurt his side of the case. I'd seen it happen before; the old families were so used to being able to order slaves around to do their every bidding that they sometimes went crazy when the House Elves left - which wasn't often, of course. The majority of House Elves were still quite content to work for their masters).

It had been a bit of a struggle to find a place that would conceal a House Elf from a wizard, but fortunately the Longbottoms were long friends of Ms. Granger and willingly took Daisy on for no rent at all.

A loud banging sounded somewhere in the room - I broke free from Numberita's musings to see Daisy banging her head on the wooden bedpost.

GAH NO BRAIN DAMAGE WAS NOT CONDUCIVE TO PRODUCTIVE THINKING.

I ran over quickly, pushing myself in between the House Elf and the bed.

"No! Daisy, it's fine, really!" I said hurriedly. She sniffed, her small, bony fingers nervously twisting the soiled fabric of her shift.

"Really? Daisy feels as if she's not helping the nice missus at all, not one bit!" she said in her high voice.

"You _are_!" I tried, pulling my lips back into a (hopefully) encouraging smile so wide that it made my cheeks ache.

Daisy's chin quivered as new tears began to shine in her eyes.

ARGH.

I'm rubbish at cheering people up. Sigh.

After wrestling Daisy away from the lamp situated on top of the wooden nightstand, I sighed and plopped myself down onto the flowered armchair by the small window. Below me the machine I'd used to climb up was now moved all the way to the other side of the street (I wondered why - why not leave it there so others could use it to climb up?) and a crew of the odd orange vest-wearing Muggles now crowded protectively around it and moved to send away any one who walked to close to it. Well.

Didn't they know that sharing was caring?

Shaking my head slightly at their selfishness (honestly), I turned back to the matter at hand.

I smoothed the roll of parchment out on my lap, scanning down the (depressingly short) scrawled list of witnesses. Of the five we'd managed to think of, two were unable to be reached (I had my suspicions of possible foul play - one of the witnesses, one Mrs. Goyle, was now off on an outlandishly expensive trip to Antarctica and thus unable to return in time for the trial..rather convenient, if you asked me) and the remaining three were reluctant to stand up against Vince (whose family owned multiple potion supply stores across the Wizarding World).

"Okay...well, Zabini looks promising," I said slowly. Daisy watched me carefully, her large eyes scanning my face for any hint of deception, a single sign that I was lying and that I was indeed dissatisfied with her -

I looked quickly away, staring at the curling loop the ink made when connecting the "Z" to the "a." Black's handwriting was, of course, impeccable and full of unnecessary flourishes.

Anna Zabini was the best lead we'd gotten so far and the most promising - of the five Pureblooded wizards we'd named, she was the one most likely to tell the truth due to her status as a cast off of her family. She'd married a poor Muggleborn and had thus been excluded from most family occasions but had happened to visit the Vinces a few years ago before her marriage, and Daisy'd told me that she thought Zabini might have seen Vince beat her after forgetting to bring the lemon cookies with the tea.

The thing was, Zabini was currently heavily pregnant - due any day now, actually - so we weren't completely sure she would be able to appear at the trial.

"What about maintenance? I'm sure a rich family like the Vinces is bound to hire some people to tend to the grounds, perhaps even Muggles...?" Rich Purebloods often (the hypocrites) hired unsuspecting Muggles to perform the manual labor their Manors required due to the favorable exchange rate from the Galleon to the pound, often paying them minimum wage to putter around the grounds.

The Muggles, of course, had no idea of their employers' magical status, and if they noticed anything odd they kept their mouth shut, probably out of fear of blackmail - you see, the families always made sure to hire the Muggles no one else would hire, the desperate teenage moms, the ex-convicts, the cast offs of Muggle society -

Daisy paused, her pale, almost-transparent eyelids fluttering shut as she thought.

After twenty-two (long) seconds, her eyes flashed open and she fairly jumped up on the rickety wooden chair, her spindly arms flapping about in excitement.

"Missus! Missus! Daisy is having thought of someone! Daisy is remembering a witness!" she shouted gleefully.

I grinned - brilliant!

"Who is it?" I asked, leaning forward and holding my eagle feather quill at the ready. Although a Muggle witness wasn't unheard of in Wizarding Trials, it was looked down upon and quite rare - after all, it was a whole load of paperwork and requesting permission for the subsequent _Obliviate_ needed to be performed on the Muggle, and of course having to explain away the crowd of stern looking people dressed in funny robes...

But it was better than nothing, and if I had to fill out paperwork for a month after this trial and/or bribe/threaten Black into letting me bring this Muggle in...I'd do it. Daisy would be free of Vince. Numberita was determined to see it through.

"There was a gardener, Missus - old Ben! He is coming to the house every week until Master fired him two months ago because he is being too slow for Master, too slow indeed-" Daisy's voice trailed off as her mouth began to quiver once more in sympathy for old Ben's plight.

When I fixed her with a gently insistent look, she swallowed before continuing, "I is not knowing where he is being right now, but I am sure he is seeing me beaten - he is thinking that I is a small exotic pet, but he is seeing me hurt all the same!"

I paused, resting the smooth feather against my chin thoughtfully. It was a wonder that the Ministry hadn't convicted the Vinces for allowing a Muggle to see Daisy...it would be difficult to prove to the jury that Vince had treated Daisy in a manner too extreme even for most Masters (it was not uncommon for wizards to occasionally hit their House Elves - most of the Wizarding World just turned a blind eye whenever it occurred) if Ben was convinced that the victim was a dog -

Although perhaps we could use this to our advantage - Numberita called up our knowledge of the Wizarding Laws, flipping through the mental book swiftly in order to find the law we were looking for...

Where was it? I remembered memorizing it in University...

There! I paused on a mental image of a chocolate-smeared (now, _who_ would desecrate such a wonderful book with food _I_ didn't know - oh, sod off. Okay, so maybe it was me - but I was hungry! It was exam week) page full of blindingly dense black text.

MLE Article IV Section IIB. No wizard is to hint at or expose the existence of magic to Muggles and other nonmagical beings.

Although the Magical Law Enforcement often ignored (with liberal help from outrageously grandiose bribes) the slight exposure of magic that resulted from the hiring of Muggles to tend to the grounds of Wizarding families, if we could bring it up in court and make it a major point of the case, the council would have no choice but to rule in our favor - any other action and they would be put under scrutiny for going against their own laws. Combine that with the mistreatment of Daisy and we had a chance of winning this suit.

This could work - I just needed to locate old Ben (the "old" part of his name was already fully cemented in Numberita - no way was I ever going to just call him "Ben"...whoever he was) and convince him to go to the stand in some weird court he's never heard of to defend a creature that by his understanding should not exist.

Woo.

"Do you know of anything that could lead us to him?" I asked.

Daisy screwed up her face, her ears drooping a bit as she struggled to remember.

"Oh! Old Ben is always talking about his daughter - she is suffering from a Muggle disease called Virgo or Gemini or somethings like that, poor Missus! He is needing the money to pay for her treatment, but now he is probably with her in his home town - it is somewhere in London, but that is all I is remembering!"

London was _huge_. I inwardly groaned, but I managed to keep a weak smile on my face.

"Thanks Daisy - that helps loads," I said sincerely - and it did. Even if I had a lot (and I did mean a _lot_) of work ahead of me, at least I had a reasonable potential witness. I hadn't angered all those Muggles for nothing, then (note to self: send a chocolate basket or something to thank them for letting me use their odd machine).

Daisy beamed at me, and I reached into the bag Rose gave me, extracting a large chocolate bar from deep within its folds. It was a bit melted from sitting in my bag all day (and two hours), but hey - it was chocolate! I gave it to Daisy, who promptly began tearing up.

Er. I froze, Numberita completely stalling as the small House Elf ran forward to engulf me in a hug surprisingly strong (seriously - I could barely breathe. Help. SOS. Mayday. GAH OXYGEN DEPLETION GAH) for her size –

"Erm - you're welcome," I finally managed to wheeze, the words half-strangled. She pulled back (thank Merlin) after another six seconds and sniffed, wiping away her tears with one frail hand.

"I is never receiving chocolate before!" she piped up. A stab of remorse hit me in the chest - honestly, this was ridiculous - happy or not with their station in life, house elves shouldn't be treated like this -

Although my family was an old Wizarding name, we were never the wealthiest of the families and thus never had a House Elf. As a result (and also partly due to the fact I never got invited to other Pureblooded children's houses - something about a violent influence or some other rubbish like that) of my isolation from the House Elf-holding culture, I'd never really grown up accepting their existence as slaves. Sure, I wasn't running around shouting "SPEW SPEW SPEWWWWW," but that didn't mean I'd condoned the practice growing up. Numberita had just never (and I was a bit ashamed to admit it) thought about it.

Of course, that all changed when Ragnuk reared his head.

I shook my head quickly, dispelling all thoughts of the goblin from Numberita, and smiled once more at Daisy. Waving goodbye, I leaned back slightly to peer out the window. Nope, the Muggles had moved the machine away from the building (argh). Sighing slightly and steeling myself for a possible confrontation with one Hannah Longbottom, I shouldered my bag and exited the room tentatively, every nerve coiled tightly as I searched for any sign of the scary lady -

All clear. Whew. I ran down the carpeted hallway quickly, my eyes fixated on my destination - a small stone fireplace at the very end of the hallway. If I could just Floo back to the offices and update Black on the new information, I could probably spend the rest of the afternoon searching for old Ben and hopefully have this business done by dinner (I had a date with a huge platter of shepherd's pie and brownies...mm, woo for active - and delicious - social lives).

"_YOU!_" A loud, slightly-shrill yell came bellowing out from the stairwell two yards behind me. Oh, come on -

I chanced a quick glance behind me. Mrs. Longbottom was careening behind me, her skirt billowing behind me as she sprinted towards me. Merlin's beard, she was _fast_ -

I pumped my arms, catching myself just before I tripped over a small wrinkle in the scarlet carpet, and tumbled into the fireplace, banging my head against the mantle (well, that was going to hurt) in the process.

Wincing and clutching at my head, I threw a haphazard handful of Floo powder with my left hand, yelling out the first place that came to my mind - "9 MERLIN SQUARE!"

Wait. What had I just said? Oh no, that was -

Numberita was cut off by the imminent threat before us -

A glimpse of angry red cheeks and narrowed eyes - a hand, clawing at the area a mere six centimeters from my nose -

Then green, brilliant emerald flames roaring up to consume me -

A whirlwind of scenes flashing by me ranging from quiet, sunlit living rooms to huge, marble-covered workplaces -

_Crash_.

I stumbled, catching myself on the side of the stone mantle before I fell onto the wood floor.

Please let them not be home. Please let them be off picking strawberries or doing something - _anything_ but be home -

"_YOU_!"

Well, this was a nice throwback to Mrs. Longbottom.

I sighed wearily, straightened, and met the eyes of one highly annoyed person who unfortunately shared most of my genes.

"Hello, Seth."

He scowled, his blue eyes narrowing as he took my disheveled appearance in. I didn't look away, instead jutting up my chin stubbornly; hey - he'd be dirty too if he'd been forced to take _two_ Floo trips under extreme duress -

"Hello, twin sister who apparently decides that she's above such trivial things such as actually keeping in touch with gorgeously handsome and intelligent blonde boys who hey oh look what a coincidence ALSO HAPPENS TO BE HER TWIN BROTHER HUH YOU'D THINK THAT WOULD MEAN SOMETHING BUT I GUESS NOT ANYMORE."

I winced; well, he was more upset than Numberita had thought -

Okay, so maybe I'd been so caught up with the Vince case lately that I hadn't been good about visiting Seth - or anyone else, really. The GW firm kept me so busy that even Numberita had to focus her complete attention to get things done.

I hadn't talked to Seth in three weeks, six days, and three hours.

Well, I supposed the Vince case would have to wait a bit - I didn't think Seth would take it very well if I left immediately.

"Erm...nice to see you?" I offered. If at all possible, his frown deepened, and he only sniffed haughtily when I cautiously walked (okay, so maybe it was more of a frantic scurry) around him and plopped myself down on the leather couch.

The flat looked marginally cleaner than when I had last seen it - which wasn't saying much, considering last time I saw it there was parchment strewn everywhere (and I did mean everywhere - I found one behind the toilet when I used the loo). The flat was small but comfortable, decorated with sleek furniture that matched the dark wooden floor and modern finishes. Seth roomed with Scorpius. After attending University for two years and attending rigorous physical therapy sessions, Seth managed to get recruited to the Chudley Cannons, an accomplishment I was immensely proud of (and the free tickets didn't hurt). Due to the intense training schedule and matches situated all over the world, Seth was absent more often than not, leaving Scorpius to hold down the flat by himself (although Rose often came over whenever she surfaced from the book-laden world of her research; Rose was, to her mother's delight, working diligently to write her thesis for her doctorate in Wizarding History while assistant teaching at Hogwarts). Scorpius was also a lawyer, but he worked for the other leading firm in the Wizarding World - the Zabini & Prince Firm.

Seth kept up his annoyed front for another six minutes and twelve seconds before sighing and shaking his head.

"Dumbbutt," he said eloquently.

"Bitterweed," I replied easily. His mouth widened in a reluctant grin.

"How's Ms. Hotshot?" he asked, moving over to recline on the armchair situated a meter to my right. I shrugged.

"Same old, same old - Black is still an uptight git, the Vince case is still taking up all my time, and Dominique is still managing to look perfect," I said.

He nodded solemnly. "Great to see that thousands of Galleons of student debt has lead you to this illustrious career."

I rolled my eyes. "How's practice?"

He brightened, leaning forward and waving his hands around animatedly as he spoke. "Brilliant! I think we have a real chance of getting to the quarter-finals this year, maybe even the semis if Rogers can fix his dives!" he enthused. I grinned, caught up with his excitement.

We exchanged a few more words about Quidditch, the conversation only stopping when I accidentally broke one of the expensive-looking vases with ol' Bessie the Second while demonstrating my latest Beater move (I called it the Adela, in case you were wondering - it involved an elaborate twirl, a move I'd perfected while dodging Sir Archibald's early-morning attacks). After staring at the shattered green splinters dotting the white carpet, I shrugged sheepishly before waving my wand at the mess, sweeping it into the rubbish bin beside the counter. I changed the subject quickly. "Where's Scorp?"

Seth shrugged. "Off working on a case, doing his lawyer thing," he said. I blinked - that reminded me - I was still technically supposed to be working. Crud.

I stood up hurriedly, pushing ol' Bessie the Second back into my bag.

"I have to get back to work - Black is going to kill me," I said apologetically, moving towards the fireplace. Seth's face fell for a second before he smiled again, but the expression was a bit strained. I paused, guilt eating at me - when was the last time anyone had really talked to him? Scorpius was probably busy with his work, I was caught up with Black's demands, and Rose practically lived at the library -

Seth saw my hesitation, and he waved me off. "No, go, it's fine," he reassured me.

I didn't move, eying him carefully. He smiled again, this one a bit more real.

"Seriously, Adela. It's fine," he repeated firmly. I nodded slowly, lifting my foot over the metal grate to step inside the fireplace.

Just as I was about to drop my handful of Floo Powder, however, something stopped me - Ragnuk. Greyback. I had to warn him - or at least let him know, he deserved that much -

"Seth, liste-" I began.

A searing heat struck at my side, burning through my trousers to claw at my leg with flame-kissed fingers -

"Gah!" I bellowed, more out of shock than hurt. Seth rushed forward, his wand already out to defend me from some invisible foe -

"No, no - it's nothing, just the coin Ms. Granger issued us-" I said through gritted teeth, digging into my trouser pocket to fish out the small golden coin issued to every Associate at the GW Firm. The coin was supposed to serve as a communication device, sort of resembling a Muggle pager - at least that was what Rose told me when she observed me collapsing to the floor the first time it had heated up.

Merlin, I'd never get used to it.

I frowned at the gold surface. The metal, once smooth, was now etched with letters scrawled in small writing -

"No telling, idiot."

I'd recognize that handwriting anywhere - Al. I scowled down, glancing around furtively - how had he known I was about to tell Seth about Ragnuk? Honestly, it was a bit creepy - and why wasn't I allowed to tell my own twin brother, for Merlin's sake?

Numberita was fuming; I waved off Seth's questions, muttering something about Black being a git (well, I had to say, Black did make a good scapegoat) before throwing down a handful of Floo Powder.

"Diagon Alley."

**Author Note: And so one Sethogriff makes his reappearance! :) Thanks for reading/reviewing! Seriously, all these reviews make me so happy :D As always, all reviews will be returned with a teaser of the next chapter! c;**

**ALSO - I've caved in to my plot bunny (it was evil) and wrote the beginnings of a Tomione AU story (I'm on the fourth chapter). I know it's not the winning pairing on my poll...but I thought it would be better to write the story I had active ideas for rather than the one I wasn't completely sure about. Anyway, I won't be publishing it until I've finished a few more chapters, but until then I would love a beta (preferably someone who has read Tomione/enjoys the pairing and feels like s/he REALLY knows the characters of Hermione and Tom very well to check for any OOCness) to look over the chapters I've written/continue to beta the rest of the story. :) **


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